


Qasilippoq Aqaat

by dotjpreg



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Mpreg, Trans Eret, will add more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotjpreg/pseuds/dotjpreg
Summary: As the newest member of Berk, Eret, Son of Eret has a lot to learn. However, as Hiccup soon finds out, they have a lot to learn about him, too.Title roughly translates to "bitter lullaby" from Inuit Greenlandic.





	1. Chapter 1

Vikings were known for a variety of things. Scary ships, pointy hats, and big beards were but a few of the fine things Vikings had to offer this world. Among their many talents were slewing large animals and roasting them, drinking entire barrels of mead in one sitting, and partying. 

Viking parties were, by far, some of the most dangerous parties you could have. Having multiple angry people under one roof with swords was touchy enough without adding copious amounts of alcohol to the mix. Fortunately, the list of people that had died at one of Berk’s parties was only a few pages long.

After Drago’s defeat and the retreat of his human armies, Berk had quite a lot to celebrate. Their dragons were back, Toothless was the new Alpha, the world’s biggest sociopath was at the bottom of the ocean, and they had a new chief. There was more mead than than trees on the island that night.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, surveyed his village from the head of the great hall. Everyone in town was there, even the dragons. There were so many warm bodies in the room, they hardly needed the fires for anything but light. Musicians played different songs from every corner of the hall, slabs of meat littered the tables, and mugs were emptying faster than anyone could fill them up. It was a sight to behold.

He was smiling, looking to his right and to his left and seeing his friends. But Hiccup knew that there was grieving to be done. They’d lost a good number of dragons and villagers in the fight earlier that day. Not to mention that the coming of a new chief always meant the passing of an old one. Stoic’s absence was something everyone in the hall felt, but none so much as Hiccup.

“One hell of a party, huh bud?” Hiccup asked the Night Fury to his left. In joyous reply, Toothless tore violently at a piece of ox, grinning. The blue glow had finally faded from the dragon’s scales, but the regal effect of it remained. He was more regal in everything from his behavior to his posture. Except, of course, when he was more focused on a piece of meat than his appearance. Hiccup laughed and turned back to his cup of grog. 

From out of the shadows, Astrid sidled up to the new chief, scaring him half to death.

“Hey there, dragon master,” she teased, lightly punching his arm.

“Well, hey there yourself, dragon racer,” Hiccup replied, smirking. 

The two allowed themselves to lean into each other. This was a rare moment of solitude: moments that would soon become scarce. With Hiccup running the village, and Astrid in charge of the Dragon Academy, the only time they would spend together would be in their home, sleeping. And perhaps they might even be robbed of that. The couple relished their time together while they could.

“It’s good to see the village in such high spirits after everything that’s happened,” Astrid commented over the din of the party.

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, we sure took a blow today.”

“It’ll be fun cleaning up tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that…”

“Ah, it’s nothing we haven’t faced before. The village used to be burned to the ground every other day, remember?”

“Yeah,” Astrid laughed, taking a gulp of grog. “But back then, the village wasn’t covered in giant spikes of sea ice.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Hiccup sighed. “Truth be told, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. It’ll be the beginning of a whole host of chiefing duties I’ll have to perform.”

Astrid sensed a hint of grief in Hiccups voice and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Well, you won’t have to do any of it alone,” she reassured. “You’ll have all the help you could ask for.”

“Oh yeah, like you’re gonna help rebuild Not-So-Silent Sven’s barn,” laughed Hiccup, leaning into her hug. “I thought you hated fixing houses!”

“I never said I would help you, did I?” Astrid retorted, giggling into her mug. “You’ve got tons of new faces around. What d’you need me for?”

“Ah, my mom can’t help rebuild, she’ll be busy with all the new dragons. She has to recondition them to being around people, or something.”

“Well, what about Eret?”

Hiccup chuckled. “I doubt Eret, Son of Eret, is gonna be very eager to help me do anything. I think he’s still mad at me for killing his boss.”

“Yeah, and in the shape he’s going to be in tomorrow, I doubt he’ll be in any state to do anything.”

“Why do you say that?”

Astrid nodded towards the nearest column where a group of rowdy vikings had gathered and were chanting.

“Looks like Jord’s about to hand his ass to him,” she commented, taking a sip of grog.

“Oh,” Hiccup said. He paused, watching the situation escalate. “I should, uh-- I should probably stop that, huh?”

“Well, he’s your convict,” Astrid shrugged.

“He’s not my-- you kidnapped him!” Hiccup accused, setting down his cup and untangling himself from Astrid’s grip. With one playful peck on the cheek from his girlfriend, Hiccup limped down the podium and headed towards the center of the throng, Toothless close on his heels.

One thing about vikings was how much respect they put into people who had proven themselves. A viking who has performed great deeds commands great respect. As Hiccup chased down the errant ex-wrangler, he saw this respect in the form of the crowd parting to make way.

Now, everyone knew Berkians were a rough-and-tumble sort of folk. Hiccup didn’t know why he expected any different from Eret, but when he approached the fight, all he could do was sigh. Jord was trapped in a headlock with Eret’s long hair tangled in his fist. The new chief resigned himself to the fact that he’d just invited yet another volatile force to live in the village(as if the dragons weren’t enough).

There were men cheering them on, betting on who would win: the surly merchant or the lean dragon wrangler. One look at the fight said it would be a hard one to break up. Unless, of course, you had a Night Fury.

Hiccup gave a sharp whistle, and Toothless came bounding into the middle of the scene, scaring the spectators back and jarring the two belligerents apart. 

“I’ll teach you a lesson yet, you smarmy, dung-munching sod!” Eret slurred, and as he moved, Hiccup saw the three or four empty tankards behind him.

“I’d like to see you try, boy! Let’s see what Drago’s little princess can do, eh?” Jord laughed, and made to lunge at Eret again. The two would’ve collided if Hiccup hadn’t stepped between them in time.

“Whoa, whoa, let’s take it easy here, guys!” he commanded, putting a palm up to their faces. Jord, recognizing a figure of authority even in his drunken state, staggered back. Eret, on the other hand, only grabbed at Hiccup's hand and attempted to charge Jord. 

"You're not worth the time, princess," the merchant grumbled.

"Stop calling me that!!" Eret roared. Hiccup pushed against his chest. 

"Hey, hey, I think it's time we took you home," Hiccup laughed nervously. He tugged at one of Eret's arms until the ex-wrangler gave in let himself be draped over the smaller viking. Hiccup made quick work of hoisting Eret onto Toothless’s back. The dragon snorted at having to carry his almost-captor, but gave in. 

The scrawny chief gave everyone in the ring an apologetic smile, but none of them seemed to care. Vikings could be at each other's throats one minute, and singing in harmony the next. Jord was already back to reveling with his buddies. 

As Hiccup trudged through great hall with a fuming Eret on his dragon, he realized that he didn't have a home to take Eret to. He thought of asking someone to take him in, but he doubted many of the villagers would be willing to take it one of Drago's former lackies. There was nowhere for the the dragon trapper to go. 

The cool air washed over the three of them as they exited the hall, and Hiccup saw Eret shiver. He couldn't leave him out here to sleep in the rubble. 

Stoic's voice echoed in Hiccup's ear: a chief's first duty was to his people. 

He sighed and tugged his dragon’s harness in the direction of the chief’s hall. If Eret didn't have a home, then it looked like Hiccup and Toothless would just have to share. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I could have taken him."

"Sure, Eret."

"I've fought dragons four times his size."

"Yup, I believe you."

"He would've been sorry he ever crossed my path."

"Yes, you're very menacing."

The dragon and two vikings trudged through the village on their way to the chief's hall. Eret had insisted on walking by himself, but it seemed his version of "walking" was actually "stumbling into buildings." Either way, Toothless seemed to be glad to have him off his back. 

"So, what started that fight in the first place?" He asked, grabbing Eret's tunic every now and then to pull him in the right direction. There was a long stretch of silence before he heard an answer. 

"He said dragon trapping was easy," Eret replied. "Said it was child's play."

Hiccup would've laughed had Eret not sounded so serious. 

"Well, you gotta consider who you're talking to," he replied as they approached his home. "We're kind of a village  _ full  _ of dragon trappers. I mean, Jord's been taking on Nadders since he was in diapers."

"But were they ever part of a dragon-wrangling industry?" Eret spat, kicking at a charred piece of wood. "No! Did they ever have their heads on the line if they didn't deliver shipment after shipment of live dragons? No!!"

Hiccup stopped a few meters away from his front door to take a look at the village's newest member. He knew Eret didn't like his position in Drago's army, but you'd think there would at least be some leftover loyalty in him.

"Well, all that is over," Hiccup reassured. "You don't have to answer to that nut job ever again." He pushed open the door and waited for Eret to enter, but the other man just stood there in the cold, staring at his boots.

“It’s not an easy job,” he reiterated, then corrected himself. “ _ Wasn’t  _ an easy job.” Eret balled his fists at his sides.

Hiccup sighed. “Look, we know, it was very hard for you to take advantage of dragons for your evil boss.” He gestured indoors. “Now can let’s get you to bed--”

“It was excruciating!” Eret shouted, making Toothless jump and sending a nearby flock of Terrible Terrors fluttering away. “It was exhausting! D’you know what it’s like wrestling a Monstrous Nightmare, on a boat in the middle of the ocean, while it’s on fire?”

“Well, actually--"

"Or hog tying an angry Thunderdrum on the side of a sea cliff?"

"Uh--"

“Not fun, let me tell you! Now imagine doing that for two years under Drago’s regime! Day after day, risking my neck to satisfy a tyrant's demands! I’d like to see you do it-- I’d like to see anyone in this blasted village do it! Just you try wrangling dragons halfway around the world with a baby in your belly, and see how you like it!”

Hiccup froze with a hand on the doorframe and exchanged a glance with Toothless. He then turned to face Eret, who was still gesturing wildly and shouting.

“Wait, Eret, what do you mean--”

“And the rations!! D’you know he never fed his armies? We were as good as the dragons he kept in cages! No, we were worse than the dragons, because we couldn’t spit fire!!”

Eret, seeming to be wearing himself out with hs ranting, staggered towards Hiccup and grasped his shoulder.

“It was Hel,” he growled, looking the chief dead in the eye. Only at this distance could you see the redness around his brown eyes, and the bags underneath them. “It was Hel,” he repeated, and his voice broke. 

Still very confused, and a little concerned, Hiccup took Eret’s torso in his arm and dragged him into the house. He was now eerily quiet and let himself be guided towards the nearest bed, which happened to be Stoic’s. The former trapper collapsed onto the wood frame and was asleep within minutes.

Hiccup stood over him for a long time with his arms crossed, trying to figure out what he’d said. Had he heard him right? Did Eret really mention something about having a baby in his belly? Was that metaphorical or literal?

Toothless nudged his rider’s arm quizzically. Hiccup turned to pet him and looked the dragon in the eye. 

“What d’you think, bud?” he asked, scratching the underside of his dragon’s chin. “Does Eret… have a child somewhere? Is that even possible?”

There were too many questions for Hiccup to stand there and ponder, so he simply left the hut and closed the door behind him. He and Toothless went back to the great hall where, to no one’s surprise, the party was still going strong. He returned to Astrid’s side and continued to watch over his village.

He vowed to have a word with Eret in the morning.

* * *

 

The party raged on until sunrise. The mead had run out long before that, but as long as there was still a viking with a song in his heart and a leg to stand on, the celebration would continue. After a while, though, the village decided to get some sleep. After all, they had a whole day of cleaning and building to look forward to. 

Hiccup realized, as he watched the villagers meander back to their homes and into their beds, that he hadn't slept in almost three days. He'd been too busy discovering his long-lost mother, defeating Drago, and saving Berk to even think about sleep. Now, it was all catching up with him, faster than his Night Fury could fly. By the time the great hall had emptied, he could barely keep his eyes open. 

"That was some party, huh?" Astrid yawned at his side. She leaned her head on his shoulder and joined him as he started the trek back home. 

"Tell me about it," replied Hiccup. 

The couple passed house after ruined house on their way across the island. Great pillars of blue ice shot up from the ground every few meters, creating a forest of destruction. Everywhere were reminders of the devastation Drago and his Alpha has caused. Hiccup sighed; this was going to be one Hel of a cleanup job. 

"We should probably get a few hours of sleep before we start rebuilding," Astrid reasoned. She sidled up next to his shoulder. “And in the morning, maybe we’ll have time for a little… pre-construction warm up? I’d say we’ve earned it, at least.”

Hiccup smirked-- they definitely had. Any Viking would say that taking down a maniacal tyrant and rearranging the dragon hierarchy deserved a good rest. Nodding slowly in agreement, Hiccup thought about how nice it would be to finally curl up with Astrid in his bed, all nice and warm, with their clothes and boots by the fire, with no one to interrupt--

"Oh, uh actually," he sputtered, "I, uh... I have a house-guest."

Astrid paused. "Oh, I forgot about your mother."

“Ah, no, she won’t be a problem. She told me last night that she’d be spending the night in the stables with Cloudjumper.”

“Ha! Hiccup, I think your mom is more dragon than human,” Astrid laughed. She clung to his arm as they neared the chief’s hall. “But if she’s not staying with you, then who’s…?”

As they stopped in front of Hiccup’s house, he cleared his throat and gingerly stepped up to the entrance. 

“Uh, actually,” he mumbled, gently pushing open the door, “it’s… him.”

Astrid took a few stealthy steps into the dark of the house. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw the sleeping form of Eret Son of Eret, snoring lightly on the former chief’s bed. She raised an eyebrow.

“You let the guy who tried to kidnap our dragons into your house?” she whispered. 

“Hey, you’re the one who convinced him to fight the good fight,” retorted Hiccup, shutting the door behind them. “Plus he… He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“So let him sleep in the stables with your mom, where the dragons can keep an eye on him.” Astrid pulled off her wooly hood and vambraces. “What if he decides to stick a knife in your eye while you’re sleeping?”

As he unclasped, unwrapped, and unwound himself from his flight suit, Hiccup considered this. He supposed Eret was, technically, the bad guy. He’d attacked them, tried to capture their dragons, and conspired with Drago Bludvist. But as a low, sleepy moan escaped the ex-wrangler, Hiccup doubted he’d be going back to that life anytime soon. At least, not until he’d had a good day’s rest. And with what he’d told Hiccup last night...

“I think we’re safe for now,” Hiccup assured, taking off the last of his leather armor and setting it carefully on a nearby table. 

“Hm. If you say so,” replied Astrid, shrugging off the rest of her ensemble and tossing it into a corner.

The both of them, now stripped to their soft underclothes, crept up the stairs and into Hiccup’s loft. Toothless’s slab remained empty: the dragon had slipped off at some point in the night, presumably to sleep in the stables with Cloudjumper. Those two had formed quite the strong bond over the last few days.

Hiccup and Astrid nestled into the bed, revelling in each other’s warmth. In the moment before they both drifted off, Hiccup relished this second of peace. He heard no dragons or vikings outside-- just the gentle, far-away sway of the ocean. Moments like these would soon become rare. After all, Hiccup now had a whole village to take care of.There were at least a hundred more dragons to take care of, and two new villagers to see to. His mother would have a better time adjusting; Eret… not so much. It would take some work to acclimate the former trapper to their ways. 

And who knew, maybe the whole “baby” thing had just been drunken babble. Hiccup closed his eyes and told himself he’d deal with it in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was high above the village before Eret, Son of Eret awoke. 

It was another cold day on Berk, made colder yet by the addition of the thirty-foot-tall icicles littering the village. Everyone had had a cold night’s sleep that night; Eret included. The fireplace in the chief’s hall had been neglected for several days, and not a single red coal could be found. When Eret rose from the wooden frame of the bed, it was with goosebumps all over his body. 

He groaned and stretched his neck; he'd gotten so used to sleeping in a hammock below the ship's decks, he'd forgotten what a real bed felt like. However, the last time he'd slept in a bed, it's been nothing like this. His village had done beds quite differently--

Eret stopped stretching and immediately made for the door; his stomach had decided, rather abruptly, that it was time to get up. He clambered out of bed, tripped over a pile of armor, and just managed to throw open the door before his body heaved up whatever was left of last night's alcohol. He tried to aim slightly to the left for fear of getting vomit all over the steps. 

The taste of bile on Eret's lips, while it was becoming a common thing, was still vile and unwelcome. He made a pinched face as he got up to wipe his mouth. Sitting back on his heels, Eret squinted out into the daylight. It seemed he'd just managed to miss throwing up on the steps; the only problem now was, whose steps were they?

Panic seized Eret's chest as he looked now at his surroundings. He scrambled for memories, trying to remember where he was and how he got there. This wasn't his trapping fort, no-- that'd been blown to pieces by the ice-spitter. Was the ice-spitter here? No, the ice-spitter was dead. Where was Drago?

Drago was dead. 

Eret stood up and went back into the house-- whoever’s house it was. Drago was dead. He ran through the thought over and over in his mind, almost afraid to believe it. 

He should be happy, he thought as he paced the unfamiliar floors. Happy that that beast of a man could no longer torment anyone for his own sick pleasure. Eret was free of his armies, and no longer had to pledge his services to him. However, there was still a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, not due to alcohol. A feeling that perhaps a new power had replaced Drago, maybe one even more powerful--

“Ah, there he is! Our prisoner is finally awake!”

Eret stopped his pacing and groaned. It all came back to him the moment he heard that nasally voice-- he was in Berk. The ex-trapper turned around to see a head of fuzzy brown hair make its way through the door, followed by a lanky, clumsy body. He was in Berk, and Hiccup, son of Stoick the Vast, had saved them all.

As the new chief tripped over the same pile of armor he’d stumbled over earlier, Eret had to wonder how it was that this boy had united dragons and humans, defeated a Bewilderbeast, and taken down Drago Bludvist. Perhaps it was luck. Perhaps there was so much more beneath the surface.

“I’m no one’s prisoner,” Eret, quipped, sitting back down on the bed. “That is, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure Jord would have a few words to say about that,” Hiccup laughed. “After all, you did give him a black eye.”

Jord? Eret pondered the name for a moment before deciding that Jord must be the brute he’d exchanged blows with last night. Speaking of which, he’d thought his scalp felt a little raw.

“If that's the sort of welcome I should expect from you lot, I think I'm better off in the ocean with Drago,” Eret replied, spitting ire at his former employer’s name. 

“Ah, I wanted to ask you about that, actually,” Hiccup hesitated. He sat on the steps and crossed his arms, much like a concerned parent would. “Uh, how are you, I guess? Now that Drago’s gone, I mean.”

Ecstatic. Elated. Relieved. He never had to answer to that megalomaniac ever again, or be at the mercy of his rage. It had already done so much damage. 

“Unemployed is how I'm feeling,” is how Eret responded instead. After all, it wasn't a lie-- what was he supposed to do if not capture dragons?

“Oh, if you're feeling useless, I'm sure we could find something for you to do,” smiled Hiccup. “I think Fishlegs was looking for someone to help him rebuild Meatlug’s grooming station.”

Eret made a face at the proposition and Hiccup laughed; that was alright, they could work him up to helping out around the village. Until then, the chief had more...pressing questions. 

“Uh, there was...something else I wanted to ask you about.”

There was a stretch of silence as Hiccup tried to find the words. 

“Are you…uh,” he started, “y’know, a… caretaker?”

Eret furrowed his brow in confusion

“Of what, exactly?” the ex-trapper replied. 

“Well, it's...It's something you said last night,” Hiccup sighed, “about being...or, having…”

“If you don't spit it out eventually, I really am going to jump in the ocean.”

“Kids!” Hiccup finally exclaimed. “You said something about kids-- or, a kid, uh, or a baby. In the context of you, maybe, y’know, having one.”

Oh. Eret stiffened-- he didn't remember saying anything about that last night, but that wasn't surprising, considering how hammered he'd been. If his tongue was that loose, what else had he given away, he wondered?

“Eret,” the young chief continued, taking on a more serious tone. “Do you… have a family somewhere? A wife and kids? Are you a father?”

With a face as stern as stone, Hiccup suddenly seemed more than capable of running a village. To take time from the reconstruction of Berk to show concern for Eret was the sign of a leader who cared about his people. This was more than Eret could've expected, and certainly far more than he deserved, but he supposed owed the dragon rider an answer nevertheless.

He took in a deep breath.

“Not yet,” he replied solemnly, moving his hands to the strings of his tunic. 

This was the beginning of a very long story; he hoped Hiccup was comfortable. 


	4. Chapter 4

“My village was small, only half the size of your Berk. We fished and built huts made of leather. We were constantly surrounded by snow; you had to travel for days to find a single blade of grass. The only dragons we ever saw were the far away shapes of Scauldrons leaping out of the water.

“Until Drago came, that is.

“I don’t think you realize just how vast Drago Bludvist’s empire was intended to be; that ma-- that monster travelled the world, haunted every archipelago imaginable. Everywhere he went, recruiting, gaining allegiances, plundering supplies, stealing dragons. And to villages that didn’t comply-- destroyed. Where I come from, we didn’t do too well to people telling us what to do, I’m afraid. When Drago realized he could make no more use of my village, he decided to make sure we wouldn't be a threat in the future.”

Eret took a deep breath. He hadn't thought about this for a long time.

“With his dragon army, he killed every man, every boy, every woman with the gall to pick up a club. The only ones left alive were those who had hidden out in the igloos-- village elders, some of our sick, and young girls. I suppose that’s something Drago and I have in common; our villages were both destroyed by dragons.”

A stunned silence hung in the Haddock hall while Hiccup processed the story. He had no idea Eret’s life had been so… tragic, up to this point. After all, it was a little tough to empathize with someone who’d tried to kidnap and sell your dragon. But this… this was unimaginably horrific. He’d known Drago was a maniac, but to kill an entire village, men and women, was unthinkable. If he wasn’t stopped, that might have happened to all the villages in the northern archipelagos. It would have happened to Berk.

However, something didn’t add up.

“Eret,” Hiccup asked softly, “how did… How did you survive?”

“...Because,” the trapper sighed, “I was born Erta, daughter of Eret.”

Oh. Ooohh.

Hiccup studied his face, and for the first time, saw a low hairline, high cheekbones, and soft eyes. He saw the remnants of a young girl, huddled in a hut of ice, hearing the screams of her people. Of her parents.

“I’m…” started hiccup, having a hard time finding words, “I’m so sorry, Eret… Or, uh… Erta…”

“No. That day, I stopped being her. I became Eret, Son of Eret.” The trapper’s eyes hardened. “That day, I vowed revenge on Drago Bludvist for what he did to my village. It seems, however, it was you who was fated to kill him. I guess I’m not the only one who had his life ruined by that madman.”

The air in the hall was solemn, and the pale light from early afternoon touched Eret’s dark hair and cast his face in harsh contrast. Every weary line, every misbegotten scar stood out like it was painted there. Eret sighed again.

“But, you asked if I had children,” he said.

“And you said,” continued Hiccup, “‘not yet’. What does…?”

He didn’t want to rush Eret, especially after such a raw confession, but that was the original question. And, not to seem insensitive, but Hiccup was supposed to be leading the construction teams. Evidently, though, Eret wasn’t concerned with speed-- actually, he was hoping he’d never have to tell anyone this story, but at this point, it seemed necessary.

“After I’d helped rebuild my village, I left to find Drago,” he went on. “Along the way, I got quite good at defending myself from dragons. I even picked up a small crew on the way. Word got around of my talents, and in the end, it was Drago who came to me.”

The ex-wrangler rested his forehead in his hand in apparent misery. “I should have refused his offer to work for him, but I was so determined to get my revenge. If I’d only known how ruthless, how controlling, how overpowering he was, I would have…”

Hiccup, seeing Eret’s rage build, came forward and pressed a hand to his shoulder.

“Hey,” the chief reassured, “it’s too late for remorse. Drago Bludvist is dead and gone-- he can’t hurt you, or anyone else, anymore.”

When Eret’s eyes met his, it wasn’t anger they were filled with; it was despair.

“Oh, but he can,” he said quietly.

Confused, but willing to wait for the rest of the story, Hiccup sat in a nearby chair and continued to listen. Eret hesitantly brought his hand to the fur around his neck, and undid the pin.

“I was Drago’s best trapper,” he said, dropping the fur onto the bed. “I brought him the most heads of anyone in his ranks. Which is why, the first time I came back empty-handed, he took it rather badly.”

Eret stood from the bed, and began undoing the knots on his belt.

“Around three months ago, your vigilante mother raided a convoy of my boats, sinking half of them and releasing every last dragon. I thought because I had always delivered, I’d be spared his fury.” He dropped the thick belt on the bed. “I was wrong.”

Hiccup watched nervously as Eret undressed himself in front of him. If there was a purpose to this demonstration, he wasn’t seeing it. Then, Eret removed the vest and waist piece and was left with his thin tunic, which he unlaced and opened. The trapper allowed Hiccup to observe his appearance. In the dark light, Hiccup could just make out the brand on Eret’s muscular pectoral, and cringed; seeing it without all the furs around it only brought out the redness of the angry scar. Evidently, Drago didn’t take so kindly to failures.

Moving his eyes down a fraction, the young chief gasped. Marring his skin were two deeply indented scars, wide and jagged, that must have been beyond painful when they were fresh. He supposed that explained the absence of breasts, then; Hiccup wondered if Eret had done those himself.

Finally, Eret took the bottom of his tunic and raised it above his head, slipping it off and onto the bed to join the rest of his upperwear in a pile.

“A scar wasn’t all Drago gave me that day,” he said, resting a burn riddled hand on his hip.

Then, Hiccup saw it, and his face fell from anticipation to horror. Just between Eret’s hips, there was an unmistakable swell in his belly. He was…

“You’re…”

“Pregnant,” Eret finished, clenching his other hand into a fist. “With that madman’s spawn.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, took you long enough!”

Astrid Hofferson stood atop a roof, carrying a stack of shingles in one hand and a hammer in the other. Putting the hammer down, she waved to the approaching Hiccup.

Barely phased by her greeting, Hiccup walked on, remaining deep in thought. After Eret had finished his lengthy explanation, he’d gone silent and began putting his clothes back on. Hiccup, taking it as a sign to give him some peace, had left quietly they way he’d came. He needed time to wrap his head around this.

Nothing like this ever happened on Berk. He knew some men could get rowdy with their wives every once in awhile, but the idea of taking someone’s body by force was evil and sadistic. To force them to carry a child out of ill will and a madness for power was unthinkable. Did Drago even know Eret was pregnant? Had Eret ever told anybody?

How alone was he in this?

Suddenly, Astrid was in front of him, a beam of a smile on her sweaty, perfect face.

“So, where is he?” she asked.

“Uuh,” Hiccup stuttered.

“Our new recruit! Where’s Eret? He’s not still lazing around, is he?”

Oohh, right. Eret was supposed to help with the building; after all, he still hadn’t completely redeemed himself. But after everything he’d told him, Hiccup couldn’t put him to work. Shouldn’t pregnant people be getting rest, or something?

“Oh, him!” he replied. “Uh, Eret, he’s uh… He’s sick! Yup, no work for him today. Or, for a while, actually, uh… maybe.”

It was a seamless excuse. Unfortunately, Astrid didn’t seem to be buying it; she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow like she usually did when she knew hey boyfriend was lying.

“Hiccup,” she sighed.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say--”

“I’m not gonna let him bully you into getting out of work! If he’s going to be a part of this village, he’s gotta pull his own weight.”

Before Hiccup could scramble for another excuse, Astrid stormed past him and headed up towards the Haddock hall. He knew there was nothing he could say to stop her-- it’s not like he could just give away Eret’s condition. The ex-trapper hadn’t made it clear that this was to be kept secret, but this wasn’t the sort of thing you spread through the village grapevine. The villagers were already visibly perturbed with having to shack up with a man who had helped orchestrate the destruction of their homes; it wouldn’t do him any favors for them to suddenly find out that he was pregnant with the former mastermind’s child.

Nevertheless, Hiccup gave it his best shot.

“Well, I mean, I went and checked on him earlier, and he was looking pretty under the weather, so we probably shouldn’t bother him,” he said, practically running to keep up with Astrid’s stride.

“C’mon, Hiccup, he couldn’t have come down with something that fast,” she replied. “We only saw him a few hours ago.”

“That’s the thing! It was so sudden, it, uh, it might be contagious! I don’t want you getting sick, too, y’know?”

“If he’s really that sick, someone should take him to Gothi.”

“Uuuhh--”

“I thought so. Come on, Hiccup, this guy almost ruined our lives. His boss was a power-crazed psycho! Until he’s done his part, and earned our trust, we can’t believe anything he says.”

Well, there was a thought. Could Eret have been lying about his past trauma? After all, he was willing to lie to Drago, a man he was terrified of; it wouldn’t be a stretch to lie to Hiccup. But those scars, the brand, and his stomach… they were all physical proof that Eret had meant what he’d said. Hiccup had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Astrid, I know he did some bad stuff--”

“Yeah, like help start a dragon army!”

“--But he’s changed! Look, he turned against Drago, a man he was terrified of! He threw sheep at an angry Bewilderbeast! I mean, that's gotta count for something, right?”

Astrid sighed. By now, they were back at Hiccup’s front door, her hand poised to push the door open. 

“Alright, he's earned some points in his favor, but I still don't trust him.”

She lowered her arm, and Hiccup sighed in relief. He'd figure out how to deal with Eret later, but until then, he just had to keep him out of the way. That meant, unfortunately, keeping him away from Astrid. And Jord. 

“He can sleep until noon,” reasoned Astrid, “and if he's not up by then, I'm dragging him out by the ponytail, sick or not--”

Suddenly, Eret himself burst out the front door, startling the two dragon riders. Once again wrapped in his furs and leathers, it is was like his belly was invisible. 

“If you lot are going to stand around and going to gossip, I'd like to hear it,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Eret! Good to see you on your feet,” Astrid said menacingly, side eyeing her boyfriend. “Hiccup said you were deathly ill.”

“Just the night’s alcohol coming back to haunt me,” he said, not untruthfully. “But don’t worry, love, I'm in perfect shape.”

After a moment of tense silence between him and the dragon rider, Astrid seemed satisfied and turned on her heel. 

“Come down to the south of the peninsula; you can help repair the docs,” she called on her way out. 

Behind her back, Eret gave a mock salute and began to follow, but was stopped by Hiccup’s hand on his chest. The young chief eyed him with suspicion. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “After all you just told me, you want to help rebuild a town? Shouldn't you… I dunno, be resting or something?”

“You forget that I've been pregnant this whole time,” Eret replied solemnly. “I was trapping dragons, fighting your mother, and sailing the open seas, for months. A little hammer and wood won't do much harm.”

Hiccup looked like he had a hard time believing him, but he took his hand off nevertheless. If Eret knew what was best for him, the he had to let him do it. Hiccup just hoped he didn't do too much damage in the process. He left Eret to go find Toothless. 

In earnest, Eret was tired. He was right-- he had been fighting and sailing for months on end while a baby was growing inside of him, and it was starting to run him ragged. He hasn't slept right in weeks, hadn't eaten more than scraps in days, and every joint and muscle was screaming at him to not move. But he'd heard Astrid from behind the door, and she was right; he had to earn his keep. Eret needed the village to trust him, even if that meant burning the candle at both ends. He couldn't do this alone, no matter how much he wanted to. 

As he began making his way towards the broken and battered docs, Eret heard a low roar from behind the house. Turning, he saw Skullcrusher, Stoic’s former dragon, lumber out from the shadows. In all the drama, Eret had forgotten that there was someone else whose trust he needed to earn.

“Well, hello,” he greeted softly, putting a rough hand on the creature’s horn. The dragon pushed into the touch and rumbled, almost like a purr. A sad sound came from the dragon’s throat. 

“You're grieving, I suppose,” the ex-trapper observed. “You've lost someone very important to you.” He sighed and looked off into the direction where Hiccup had disappeared. 

“You all have.”


	6. Chapter 6

A whoop and came from somewhere to Eret’s left, and immediately, he ducked low onto Skullcrusher’s saddle. The dragon roared with guttural delight as three dragon riders zipped past, causing the rope Eret was using to haul lumber and tools to nearly slip out of his grasp. The man scowled.

“Shouldn’t they led us a hand?” Eret asked the men below him, who were busy patching up a roof. “Instead of… what is it they’re doing, again?”

“It’s Thorsday!” a thickly mustached man, whom Eret had come to know as Sven, answered. “Every Thorsday, there’s a dragon race to keep up good spirits!”

“We haven’t had one for two weeks,” a woman was thick braids chimed in as she hammered a shingle into place. “Hicc-- er, the Chief figured it was about time we cheered everybody up again.”

Eret watched as Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins battled for custody over a sheep. Baa’s of despair could be heard over the din of the cheering crowd. Eret wondered what kind of lunatics lived here that snatching sheep was a sport.

“You could join them, you know,” Sven offered as the ex-trapper passed him a piece of lumber. “After all, Skullcrusher is one’a the fastest dragons in Berk.”

The great, armored beast shook his head at that, as if in excitement. Across the village, the crowds cheered as someone scored a point. Eret supposed that if he was to be getting along with the villagers, there was no better way of doing it than joining in on… whatever this was. But as he handed the braided woman another stack of shingles, he shook his head.

“I’ve never really been the sporty type,” he sufficed, giving Skullcrusher a consolation pat on the head. Maybe next time.

“Oi, it’s probably best he doesn’t race,” called a man on the other side of the roof. “He’d sooner slit the throat of anyone who’d take his sheep!”

A few laughs scattered themselves across the rooftop and Eret scrunched up his face, offended. He didn’t dare start anymore fights, what with his reputation to consider; but what good was it if, even after two weeks, they still thought he was a murderer?

“Give ‘im the benefit of the doubt, lads,” Sven reasoned. “After all, the Chief think he’s alright.”

“Aye, but the Chief thought Drago was worth reasoning with, too,” said the woman with braids. 

Eret quietly seethed. There was no witty rebuttal he could say that wouldn’t be misconstrued by these simpletons as an act of hostility. 

“Are you telling me you don’t trust your chief?” he asked instead.

“Och, he’s young,” the other man said. “One day he’ll learn that there’s a price to underestimating your enemies.”

“Let’s hope you aren’t the one to teach him that lesson,” the woman put in.

An awkward moment passed along the rooftop as the workers stopped hammering to give Eret a sideways glance. They started work again almost immediately, but the former trapper suddenly felt very unwelcome. He dropped what was left of the shingles and planks onto the roof and gave Skullcrusher’s harness and tug.

“Just remembered,” he sneered, “Hiccup wanted me to fix a stable on the less bigoted side of the island.”

If any of them had a retort to that, Eret was flying out of earshot before they had a chance to say it. At least Sven was right was right about one thing-- Skullcrusher really was a very fast dragon. Before he’d had the chance to regret his words, they were already halfway across Berk.

Below, spires of blue ice shot out of buildings like thorns. Vikings chipped away at them, lopping at them with axes, trying to free their homes from the remnants of a terrible battle. He knew when they saw him, the former lackey of the madman that did this, astride their dead chief’s mount, they felt righteous anger. With Drago dead, there was no more villain to fight, no more throats to cut, save for Eret’s. 

Not for the first time, Eret was concerned for his own safety. He was an argument or a dropped hammer away from being village enemy number one. Were the townspeople to find out about his condition, it would only increase their hateful sentiment for Drago’s former henchman.

Eret knew he wasn’t blameless in the destruction caused by Drago Bludvist. He stole dragons from their homes, raided villages on his boss’s behalf, hurt people, been cruel to his men. Those blades on his waist weren’t just for wrangling dragons. He’d done it all in the interest of getting revenge on Drago for slaughtering his family, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.

Eret probably deserved everything he had coming to him.


End file.
